


Hummingbird

by Oienel



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M, Moaning, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: Jongdae is full of shit and more importantly, full of noises.It's a fill for tumblr prompt: vocal Jongdae porn.





	Hummingbird

There is light breeze cooling your face and moving your hair. Air smells of salt and sun, and it’s an aroma you’ve learned to associate with relax. You can hear waves breaking on the rocks – sound harsh and angry, but there is also more quiet version, the lazy sound of water climbing up the sand, grabbing at diminutive rocks, trying to stay there, while nature forces it back into the sea.

You can also hear the delicate rustling of leaves and calls of night birds slowly waking up. It’s a calming scene, but your brain helpfully supplies that those calls are in the reality mating calls, and birds are just trying to get laid.

But they are not the only beings that are trying to get laid.

There is a hand on your stomach and lips on the junction between your neck and shoulder. Jongdae purrs and the sound raises hair on your nape.

“How about coming inside?” He murmurs against  your skin, lips tickling the tissue.

Jongdae is always… Eager. Jongdae is always ready and it’s both cute and gratifying. His body fits behind you, and you let him bring you flush against his torso, instinctively resting your hand on his hand on your stomach, but you still look ahead.

“Inside me?” You ask, knowing well that he was talking about the bungalow, but also being sure that if he wasn’t horny he would made this joke.

“That’s the idea.” He says, lips sliding up the column of your neck. His hand tries to slide down, but your fingers clench on his wrist, keeping it in place – it’s usually hard to keep track of his wandering hands.

You can feel the whine forming in his chest, even before it reaches his throat. The sounds is quite high and heartfelt and it reverberates through his body, filling your ears.

You laugh, raising your free hand to pat his head. He puts the other hand on your side, changing his mind a second later and just sliding it to join the other one on your stomach. He’s got you caged and he uses it to rock you from side to the side, in slow rhythm, matching waves. He starts humming, but the sound is way lower than usual, more raspy, and you know this pitch.

It’s the one he believes makes you wet.

And he is right.

“Is it your mating call?” You ask, your body feeling cold in the breeze – except for the parts that Jongdae is currently touching.

“Exactly.” He answers in the same low-singing voice, rubbing his nose against your jaw.

Jongdae is persistent. He says nothing when you shudder, hairs on your body raising, but his free hand (the one not caged by your fingers) tries to do to what the other one didn’t manage to do. You are quick on your feet, and the other hand is caught as well. He doesn’t fight you, his fingers tapping on your abdomen, his teeth scraping the protruding jaw bone.

He doesn’t have to fight, he knows you good enough – and the fact that you hate to admit that it works every time. His chest is vibrating with the sounds, his low humming voice engulfing you, slowly cutting out every other sound on the beach.

But then again, you’d hate to lose without even putting a fight.

Silence (because you don’t count Jongdae’s humming as sound – it’s as quiet as it can get with him) is getting longer, and you know he is starting to fidget behind you.

And then he breaks.

“Ok, no, but, like, for real.” You press your lips together, to fight your smile. “C’mon, hon, time is being wasted like that! You know you want to, and I know you want to, and you know I can make you feel good, and I just don’t…”

“Oh, shut up, Jongdae.” You say, without any bite in your voice. His verbal flood is usually more amusing than annoying.

Usually.

“No, but I just don’t understand why you’d prefer to stand there and look at the waves to me doing waves on top of you? Like it’s unfair, and you are obstructing both me and you a wonderful evening.”

“Jongdae.”

“Don’t Jongdae me, I’m serious. I get it, surroundings are nice and beautiful, but do you really prefer it over me? I am a celebrity you know?”

“ _Jongdae._ ”

“What. Am I not enough? Is my dick somehow lacking? Or maybe it’s my technique that needs polishing? Well, it’s not like I can help it without you, and you are being hard, and truthfully it’s just unfair, because you are standing here all…” You don’t get to hear what he has to say, because you know it’s bullshit. Bullshit with one reason for being sputtered in such a haste – he wants to annoy you, to the point where you’ll just do what he wants from you.

Just like now, when you turn around in his hold, throwing your arms on his neck, reading yourself for the most cliché thing in the world – shutting him up with a kiss, but you see his face. His lips are stretched in a playful smile, eyebrow arched and his whole body oozes with satisfaction. This stops you, but he doesn’t care, being the one to bend his neck to kiss you.

Your lips are pressed together, because you _are_ annoyed, but he nips at your lips, whine once again reaching your ears. He bites at your lower lip, dragging it back as he straightens. You look him straight in the eyes, and he winks at you, and you want to say something, but he knows you good enough to read the signs. He kisses you again.

There are teeth scraping at the skin, and you look at him, so close. He realizes that it’s still not working, so he also opens his eyes, so close that you do see the borderline between his pupil and iris. His eyebrow twitch and he purrs, his hand kneading your ass.

You finally decide to kiss him, you take the lead, and pleased murmur tells you that he is perfectly content with that. You control the pace of the kiss, you control how much you allow him to take, just like you control what is happening.

And he is content with that, letting himself be pushed back, into the small building. It’s actually nothing more than a bedroom with criminally small bathroom. But it’s yours for this week and you know it good enough to just push Jongdae to the bed.

There is this approving voice in the back of his throat and you know that it’s only beginning of his approval.

Jongdae is usually quite vocal. He doesn’t speak his mind with words, but his vocal chords never stop working, he sighs, he whines, he murmurs, he hums, he mumbles, he moans, he _growls._ He sighs, when his back hits the bed. He whines, when you don’t join him immediately, opting to take off white loose dress you had on. He murmurs spread all over the bed, when you climb on, your knee falling between his spread legs, close enough to his groin that you brush against it, as you reach to kiss him. He hums, when you do, his hands splaying on your back, finding the clip of your bra. He mumbles unintelligently, when he opens it and you break the kiss, so he can _look._ He moans when one of your hands grab him through the fabrics of his shorts. He growls, when you bite his neck, rolling the skin between your teeth.

Jongdae is usually vocal and pushy. But there are times when he is passive, save for the constant, very informative approval coming from his throat. He helps you with his clothes, but the does it lazily, not speeding up the process, and you are getting annoyed again.

He gasps when you suck the head of his cock into your mouth. He hisses, when your teeth scrape the undershaft, but he trusts you enough not to say nothing – but the fierce look he gives you, the one drilling holes into your skull tells you, that he won’t be lazy anymore.

His breath quickens. It’s audible, it’s turning you on, it’s so _Jongdae._ Your hands push against his abdomen, and even if he has his hands behind his head, you know he is not relaxed. His face is flushed and wet, his own arousal getting better of him.

You line yourself up, hand moving to keep Jongdae’s dick in place, just where you want it, the other hand sinking nails into his skin, thumb being tickled by coarse hairs leading to his groin. You go down, gravity pressing it in, bulbous head opening you up, and you relish both the feeling and Jongdae’s heartfelt curse.

It’s a first uttered word since you entered the building and it’s a perfect choice. Your eyes slide up the body underneath you, lithe, but slender, chest flushed and heaving, and you clench around him, working your kegels, sweating breaking out on your forehead.

He throws his head back, and laughs loudly, breathily, madly.

“God, you are the best.” You know that, but you say nothing, letting go. He frees one of his hands from under his head to stroke your hip. You catch his stare, and go clamp down again, observing how his eyes slide closed, groan pushing out through his half open lips.

You fight your own muscles as you raise up, trying to keep them clenched, but you can’t really do it. Not yet at least.

Jongdae doesn’t seem to care that you can’t. But you do hear him whimper, when you let go, only head still in you. Your hips roll forward when you push down, it’s your way to stimulate yourself.

Jongdae hiccups, and you know that this time it’s because how you look. Flushed, body unfurled, chest pushed forward, mouth slightly open as you force yourself down on his dick. You know you look good, but it’s his wonder that makes you feel sexy.

Your thighs start to tremble way too early, but you refuse to give up. You just don’t give up. Your rhythm is fucked up, there is not regular slides nor a readable pace, because every time you work something out, he snaps his hips up, messing it up or just new wave of pleasure hits you, your hips stuttering.

You groan, but it’s half from pleasure, half from your fight to slide up once again. Jongdae matches your groan with his own and he sits up, and this time both of you moan, because of this changes the pressure points, and really, it’s the thing you needed. You open your eyes, and you see his face so close to you, and you see how glazed over his eyes are and you realize that he is so aroused that there were tears forming in his eyes.

You kiss him, once again pressure point change and he growls, his fingers digging into your skin, and he guides you up, his arms flexing to do that. You grab his shoulders to steady yourself, and you gather your strength to ride him again.

He is looking up at your face, and you see his lips moving, but you don’t hear anything – you don’t know whether he is not saying anything or just the blood in your ears is too loud.

“Oh god.” You muster out and you think he repeats it, because of the way his lips move and you kiss him again, one of your hands pulling at his hair and he keens in his throat.

It’s hot, but it’s too much, and somehow not enough. You get annoyed and you push him back on the bed, hands bracing on his chest, and you can feel the groan reverberating in his chest underyour fingertips. He gets off on you being pushy.

Your head rolls down, and you shift to fix your position, and you grit your teeth as you pick your pace up once again, focused on bringing both of you over the edge. Your thighs are trembling, but so are his, and now you are being encouraged. He pleads, he asks, he begs, he prays. His words are a nonsense string of sounds, separated with shaky breaths and throaty groans, and you shut your eyes, letting yourself be bathed in the sounds he’s making. You don’t get the meaning, but you get the intentions, and truth be told – it’s the pitch of his voice, the sound of his voice, it’s the edge to its usual smoothness.

Your elbows give up, and you collapse on top of him, head fitting next to his. You rock on your knees, now with not enough leverage to do much more. He coils into himself to trying to snap his hips into you, but more importantly, one of his hands is on your nape, and he turns his head to you, and he is whispering breathily into your ear.

You don’t know what. You only feel his breath on the shell of your ear and his usually honey-like voice now all husky and low, penetrating your brain.

You go wild in his hold, feeling the impeding orgasm.

He comes before you, his hips snapping harshly, his fingers digging into your skin, and a low guttural leaving his chapped lips.

It’s enough to bring you over.

It’s always enough.


End file.
